No Safety
by moonstruckgirl15
Summary: Ellie is running from a dark event in her past, broken and haunted, moving to Forks with her dad under the name Isabella Swan. But what is it? Can the Cullens, especially our favorite blonde "ice queen", figure it out and save her? LEMONS AND DARK THEMES! On hold, possibly up for adoption.
1. Prologue: Crushing

**This is the first Twilight story I think worthy enough to post and continue with. I will accept all thoughts and opinions, but please, there's no need for cruelty.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. Do I own Ellie? Well, I guess I own her name.**

Prologue: Crushing

Ellie

I don't like this. I don't like being here, in this house, this town, hell, even this city. All it ever does is remind me of everything that happened. Everywhere I look, I see her. I see some memory that I used to remember with such happiness now darkened, tainted.

I see IT.

It feels like I have some sort of phantom clinging to me that I can't get rid of; _IT_. That's how it feels; how it haunts me _every fucking moment_ of my life.

And, if I wasn't mistaken, the phantom known as IT fancied carrying around a giant neon sign and positioning it right above my head. IT has changed me, changed how other people look at me. I hate it. I'm not a person to them anymore, if I ever was before. To some of them, I don't even have a name. I am simply That Girl. I hear the whispers around me all the time, feel the stares. "…Yeah, it's her. She's that girl. The one who got…" "Saw her on TV… looked fucked up." "Poor girl, having to go through that…" Those are the most common; the others are much less pleasant. But I won't get into that.

It's all because of that stupid trial. What the fuck! What was the point of that? Did they get some sort of pleasure out of it? Of parading me and my family and IT around like morbidly spectacular show horses? Why couldn't they have just sent her to jail, or an institution, and be done with it?

Why did they force me to look at her date after date, see her looking back at me with such…? That was almost worse than the Event itself, having to see her and know she was thinking about it and remembering it.

Her… That was what hurt the most. It was her. After everything we'd done together, every night we spent watching scary movies when Mom and Phil weren't home, every time we danced in our rooms to music that was too loud, every time she beat someone up for picking on me, it was still her.

I think I would have been okay if it was anyone else. Seriously, I would. Because at least then it wouldn't have caused such an uproar. There wouldn't have been a state-broadcasted trial. There wouldn't have been news broadcasts, newspaper articles, and even episodes of talk shows dissecting it and analyzing every horrific detail and then putting it in highlights. The fact that Phil was a famous baseball player didn't help matters at all.

And I would still have my friends and my family to support me and help me through it. I would've had _her_ to help me through it. But now I have none of that. My friends back away from me like I have a plague. I can see it in their eyes; they know they should help me, but they think if they do, what happened to me might happen to them by association. My family is too broken and in shock to do anything. IT has shattered us. It's like we were hit by an atom bomb, and the weak and wounded survivors are fruitlessly trying to pick up the scattered pieces of our lives from before.

With all of this, I don't know if I'll ever be okay.

But I do know that I can't stay here, live here, _be_ here, anymore. I have to leave. If I don't, I know for sure this place will crush me.

I feel like my very name is crushing me. Ellie Garner. That name is not mine anymore. Good thing too, because I don't want it. There is no more Garner family. We are far too torn and strangled to be what you could consider a family. And _she_ called me Ellie. She knew I loathed being called Elizabeth, so she called me Ellie and eventually everyone else picked it up. It was ironic. My whole life I felt free with that name—or freer than I did under _Elizabeth_—but now I feel trapped in the most wretched and suffocating cage.

So I'm changing it. Soon, Ellie Garner will be leaving Phoenix, Arizona and Isabella Swan will be entering Forks, Washington. My middle name is Isobel and my father Charlie's surname is Swan, so there ya go. I've okayed it with Charlie. I will be registered in everything under that name and that name only. I hope it helps.

Tomorrow I leave. Mom and Phil are really sad, but they understand it's what I have to do for my own sake. And I know they'll be okay eventually, as long as they have each other.

Do I dare to hope the same for myself?

**So honestly, how many of ya are interested? Interested enough to keep reading? Activate that hyperlink down there and see what happens. You know you want to.**


	2. Chapter 1: Stand in the Rain

**Chapter 1 yay!**

**Disclaimer: I own Ellie's name and all elements not mentioned in Twilight**

Chapter 1: Stand in the Rain

Ellie/Bella

Flying sucks. Airports really suck. I waited in the terminal, tapping my foot and clutching a Starbucks coffee like it was the only thing keeping me alive. There were so many people here. I never liked crowds, but now, I could barely stand them.

I hate that they're all so… _noisy_. Always bustle, bustle, bustle. Does time even exist anymore, with all this rushing?

There's a couple fighting in a café. Both of them looked seriously pissed. Exaggerated gestures, blazing eyes. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but it was so obvious that they were shouting or nearly shouting.

_Get caught cheating, did we?_ I thought. It was funny enough in a miserable and morbid sense that I smirked. Ah, the manager of the place was coming over. The guy pushed him back, and when the poor man bravely tried again, he got clocked in the eye. Ow.

Uh oh. There was security. They deftly detained the former couple while some other customers helped the disoriented manager to his feet.

On the other side of me was something different. A little boy was screaming his head off while his frazzled and no doubt jetlagged mother was trying to calm him down. He was screaming something about a soda. What a brat.

Then I frowned, rubbing my forehead. I shouldn't be thinking like this. It's not me, I know it isn't. It's this place. The irritation, frustration, and paranoia are overflowing into my thoughts. I just feel so… exposed. Ever since IT, I feel like everyone's staring at me. It's not an entirely baseless feeling. People did stare at me in Phoenix, a lot, especially in school. If I so much as went into a different neighborhood, I got weird looks from people who passed. Even people on the plane were looking at me. I know because I eventually asked for a new seat in the back where I was alone.

Then there's all the noise, obviously, from screaming kids to violent exes. Lastly, there's just **so, many, people**! Fuck, what the hell was taking my dad so long?

Finally he came, rushing through the crowd over to me. He hugged me tightly, too tightly. I somewhat forcefully wiggled out of his grip, wrapping my arms around myself protectively.

He looked hurt, and miserable, but he understood. No touching.

Oppressed by heavy silence, we left the airport and started the long drive to Forks. I hadn't been there in years since the annual two-week summer visits stopped. I remembered liking the beach though.

Charlie fiddled with the radio, and it wound up on random music station. The song caught my attention.

_She never slows down._

_She doesn't know why_

_But she knows that when she's_

_All alone_

_She feels like it's all_

_Coming down_

_Ain't that the truth_, I thought, staring out the window into the dreary day.

_She won't turn around_

_The shadows are long and she fears if she cries_

_That first tear_

_The tears will not stop_

_Raining down_

That's not the case, I assure you. There is a well defined point when you run out of tears. And then you're just too far gone to cry anymore.

_So Stand in the Rain_

_Stand Your Ground_

_Stand Up When It's All Crashing Down_

_You Stand through the Pain_

_You Won't Drown_

_And One Day what's Lost Can Be Found_

_You Stand in the Rain_

I snorted in disgust, and Charlie gave me a worried glance. _How optimistic_, I thought viciously.

_She won't make a sound_

_Alone in this with herself and the_

_Fears, whispering_

"_If she stands, she'll fall down."_

I have already fallen.

_She wants to be found_

_The only way out is through everything_

_She's_

_Running From_

_Wants to give up_

_And lie down_

_So Stand in the Rain_

Oh, not this again.

_Stand Your Ground_

_Stand Up When It's All Crashing Down_

_You Stand through the Pain_

_You Won't Drown_

_And One Day what's Lost Can Be Found_

_You Stand in the Rain_

Such long-winded tripe. Then there was a short musical interlude, and then that annoying chorus repeated twice more. Mercifully, the song ended on a single somber piano chord.

I turned the radio off. But the song stuck in my mind. It was silly, really, and naïve. There was so much that it failed to take into account. What if you can't stand up again? What if the shadows are too strong, or the injuries too severe? I understood that it was meant to be motivational, encouraging, and was left purposefully vague to fit multiple situations, but still. Was the writer really thinking about what she was saying? Was she thinking about just how badly one person could be wounded, especially by another person? Did she understand real pain, physical, mental, emotional agony? Did she know how deeply betrayal could cut, especially the sort of betrayal I experienced over these last months?

I doubted it.

* * **(This symbol will appear whenever there is a lapse in time)**

It took another two hours to finally get to Forks. I would've used that time to sleep, but I was too worried I might have another nightmare and scare Charlie. So I kept myself awake.

His house looked like I remembered it; modest and neat, with a sense of welcome and at the same time a feeling of authority. It was definitely a house fit for a chief of police in a town like this. I climbed out of his car and into the cool drizzling rain. _What a coincidence_, I thought wryly.

"Bells, do you want to unpack now or wait awhile?" He asked. "Bells" was his nickname for me, taken from my middle name. It was better than any of the alternatives.

"I'll get it now, Dad," I said, ignoring how I knew my voice must sound. I grabbed my stuff and together we got inside. He showed me to my room and then let me be. That's one of the best things about Charlie; he doesn't hover.

I unpacked my things slowly. Clothes: a mix of blacks and grays. I missed the colors I used to have, but they had too many painful things connected to them. Hopefully I could start anew here. That was my ultimate goal, wasn't it? Photographs: none. Like colors, they hurt too much to look at. Trinkets: one itty bitty cactus in a small blue pot. A reminder of the warmth and sun I was leaving behind. This little guy was officially my closest friend right now. His name was Harold the Cactus, and he kept me up and moving all through the aftermath of IT in Phoenix. No one was a better listener.

Was I bug nuts, talking to a cactus and calling it my friend? Yes, but I was aware of that already. I set him on my nightstand.

I meandered downstairs to the kitchen. Charlie was there at the table, reading the newspaper. I went to the cupboards and rifled through them, looking for something to make for dinner.

"Hold on there, Bells," Charlie said. I turned to face him. He regarded me with a careful, speculative look. "Let me take you out tonight. You just got here and you're exhausted. You don't need to cook."

That sounded… good, I guess? He was right. I was exhausted, physically and mentally, but did I really want to go into town and deal with _**people**_?

No. "Okay," I said. He looked relieved.

"I'll go grab my jacket," he said, getting up.

The diner was one of only two places that could qualify as restaurants in Forks. It was a decently sized place, with two rooms of tables and the cooking area in the very back and the bar in the middle. It was a beacon of amiability and warmth. I could certainly see, and feel to some extent, its appeal.

The waitress greeted Charlie with an accustomed air, the locals waved to him, and he moved to one specific table with a sense of familiarity and possessiveness. It was these things that helped me arrive at the conclusion that my father has probably been here more than any other place in time, including his own police station. It worried me vaguely.

"How often do you come here, Dad?" I asked quietly.

He looked sheepish. "Well, kind of often, I guess. Sometimes I'll eat down on the reservation."

I raised my eyebrow, the ghost of a real smile just barely curling at my lips. "And how many times do you get the 8 oz. steak with French fries, coleslaw, and a beer when you come here 'kind of often'?"

He blushed, and rubbed the back of his head. It was funny and, I admit, a bit heartwarming to see him look like an embarrassed schoolboy. I grinned.

That seemed to really catch his attention. He looked at me in poorly hidden surprise, and just like that it slid off my face. He looked sad, but scrambled for some way to diffuse the awkwardness of the situation.

"Anyway, Billy's coming up tomorrow. You remember Billy Black, don't you? From the rez?"

Vaguely. "Yes. Dad…" I struggled to find the right way to phrase this. "Does… does he know?"

His eyes grew dark. "Not everything," he said. "He knows something bad happened, and that's why you came up here, and he knows you've changed your name. That's all I told him. If he knows anything else, he didn't hear it from me."

I nodded, sorry I had to bring it up. "Thanks, Dad."

"For what?"

"For all of this. Taking me in on such short notice, getting me enrolled in school here, and for, you know, keeping… IT …on the down low. Everything."

He regarded me steadily. "Bells, you're my kid. I'll always do what it takes to keep you safe and keep you happy. It's one of those weird parent things." I noticed how pleased he looked when I let him see my little smile. He reached over and carefully put his hand over mine, waiting to see how I would respond. I was okay with little touches like that; anything else, I generally avoided.

The food was good. Charlie got pie for desert, but I abstained for cautionary purposes. The night was drawing near, and with it the chance for another night terror. Best not to give my finicky stomach too much ammunition if I threw up.

Just as we were leaving, a silver Volvo rolled past the diner. I suppose it was because I'd never seen such a fancy car in Forks so far that it drew my eye. I couldn't see who was inside because the windows were tinted.

Disregarding it, I followed Charlie out to his police cruiser.

Let the night begin.

**How was it? Feel free to post any questions, comments or concerns and I will do my best to respond. Also, I'd love to hear what people think IT is, so if you want to send me a PM or, if necessary, post a comment, then please do. I want to know what people think so I can figure out how to better introduce it, clues/hints and whatnot.**


	3. Chapter 2: Oh Joy

**Chapter 2, alright! Judging from what people have said, which isn't much, it's a 50/50 between those has a good idea what IT is and who doesn't. So there is sort of a big clue right in the beginning. Remember, keep talking to me.**

**Disclaimer: If you come near me, you creepy smiling billboard lawyers, I'll make Rosalie eat you. And not in the good way.**

Chapter 2: Oh joy

Bella

_The phone wire bit into my wrists. I was pretty sure I was bleeding, but there were more important things to worry about._

_I was trapped in darkness. She hadn't left any lights on for fear I would try to escape again. The carpet felt crusty under me, particularly near my legs, indicating where I had bled the most so far. I would've rolled over, onto a fresher spot, but every part of me rejected movement. Little scratches covered me from head to toe, tiny but painful marks left by cruel nails. I thought one of my ribs was cracked, if not broken, not to mention the milder dark bruises covering my stomach._

_My face had thus far sustained the least injuries. Just my face. She smacked me around a few times, but nothing more severe._

_It hurt to breathe. The bruises that wrapped around my throat were resistant to stretching, and my damaged rib was making a nuisance of itself. But I kept breathing all the same, not knowing what else to do._

_This was day 3._

My eyes flew open. I sat up, panting harshly. I could feel the sweat all over me. I wasn't surprised to see the sheets kicked away willy nilly.

I rubbed my face with my hand and looked at my alarm clock. 4:32 am. Great. Just lovely. I knew there was no point in going back to sleep, so I stumbled out of bed and started taking off my sheets.

I trudged downstairs and threw them in the washing machine. Then I trudged back up the stairs to the bathroom to shower. Carefully, I turned on the light and shielded my eyes. After a minute it was all good, so I got to it.

I avoided looking in the mirror.

The water was cold, but these days I liked that better. I washed my hair with my little shampoo bottle and stood out of the water to let it sit. Sitting there, I lifted up my arms and looked at them. That phone wire had left its marks, little raised lines wrapping around my wrists and forearms with the slightest pink tint to them. It did its job at the time, keeping me from getting up while taking away what was my best form of defense. She was resourceful.

I shuddered. I needed to stop thinking about this. I put my arms down again and made the water even colder.

At 5, I went to check on my sheets. Almost done, I moved to the kitchen. It was Sunday, so I imagined that Charlie wouldn't be up for awhile. I made breakfast for myself from the meager supply of suitable food available to me.

The sun slowly rose, hidden for the most part behind a bunch of gray and white clouds. I went outside with a towel and sat on the porch steps. I actually liked the feel of the air, the humid coolness that comes in breaks between bouts of rain. It was, in a strange way, soothing.

Here I sat, watching the neighborhood gradually awaken. This place was so different from Phoenix; it was so much more… at ease.

I hadn't even realized that I had fallen asleep again—blissfully without a dream—until a car horn rudely awakened me. I squinted at a faded red truck that was parking in the driveway. A teenage boy with russet colored skin and long black hair hopped out of the driver's seat. I didn't recognize him, but I recognized the older man he helped into a wheelchair. Billy Black.

Charlie came out with this big smile. "Well, look what the tank rolled in." He slapped both men on the back as boys do. Then he looked back at me. "Bells, come on over here."

I did. The boy looked at me with a mix of curiosity and eagerness. Billy looked at me much more knowingly than I particularly cared for.

"Bella, you remember Billy," Charlie.

I nodded to him. "How have you been, Billy?"

He grinned and nodded at his legs. "Still dancing."

"And this here is Jacob," Charlie continued, gesturing to the boy.

He smiled and held out his hand. "Jacob Black." We shook hands, and I made note that he had what was bordering on an uncomfortably strong grip. "I think you know my sister, Rachel."

Again, vaguely. "Yes. She good?"

He nodded, but rolled his eyes slightly. I looked to the tank-like truck. "This is quite a piece," I said, running my hand over the faded paint.

He looked decidedly proud and smug as he patted the beast. "Rebuilt the engine myself. Now it's completely functional… for the most part."

"You rebuilt the whole engine? By yourself?"

He nodded and grinned. "Not entirely from scratch, but let's just say there wasn't much to go on when I started.

I eyed him speculatively. "That's impressive. I don't know much about cars, to be honest, but I know enough to know this beast is rather seasoned."

"As in 1950s seasoned," he said. He took on a stance you would expect of a commercial car salesman. "But, with a little work it now not only runs at speeds of up to 40mph, but it also has working air conditioning, seats with no holes or cracks, and two completely closable doors. It's also great for scaring off wild animals due to the fact that it sounds like one."

I grinned at him. Charlie came over and patted the truck's door. "Say hello to your homecoming present."

I stared at him. "Are you serious? This is mine?"

He nodded. "All yours."

I looked back at the truck. "Judas Priest," I hissed under my breath. My hand reached out again to stroke it. I circled it, feeling its hard contours. _Well_, I thought wryly. _At least if I get into a crash, there'll be more damage to the other car_. I looked back at the three males. "Thank you. Really, thank you so much."

Billy nodded like it was nothing. "Not a problem. And besides…" I didn't like how he looked at me with that _knowing_. "We could all use a little more protection these days."

We looked into each other's eyes. I tried to look deeper, to try and see just how much he knew, but it was too well hidden.

Charlie and Jacob were oblivious. "Alright, let's go folks. Got a big day ahead of us."

So the day passed. Charlie and Billy watched the numerous football games going on and I spent most of the time with Jacob. He was nice, really nice, and fun to be around, if a little like an overgrown puppy in his eagerness. I even think I smiled once or twice. But I knew firsthand that niceness can only tell so much about a person.

They left after nightfall, when the final game ended. I was cleaning up the kitchen table when Charlie sat down.

"So what do you think of Jacob, Bells?"

I should've expected this. "Uh, he's cool. He's friendly."

He turned towards me. "You like him?" The fact that I knew this was awkward for him too kept me from snapping at him.

I just looked at him. "Dad, are we really going to talk about this?"

He blushed. "I just… I just want you to get along okay here. Make friends, do teenage things, maybe… I dunno, get a boyfriend or something."

I gave him a sympathetic look, but shook my head. "You know I'm not going to get a boyfriend, Dad."

He blushed again. "W-well," he stuttered, rubbing the back of his head. "Boy, girl… some—I don't know."

I grinned sadly. "It's okay, Dad. I get it. You want me to be happy here. I want that too. But it's going to take time. Maybe a lot of time."

He sighed and stood. "I know. I do." Another sigh. "I can't imagine how hard this has been for you. And I want to help you, anyway I can. I just… I feel like I've missed so much. I haven't been around. I mean, the last time we saw each other was three years ago. I want to make up for… lost time, and all that."

Aw, he looked so flustered. I took a risk, set aside my instinctive fear, and gave him a hug. I pulled away before he could really respond, and just sorta smiled shyly at his surprised look.

"I'm gonna go to bed now. Okay?"

He nodded after a moment. "Yeah. I'll, uh, see ya in the morning."

"Night, Dad."

I went upstairs, got into pajamas and got settled onto my bed. I turned my head an picked up Harold from his spot on the nightstand. I set him on my stomach.

"School tomorrow, Harold. I get to _make friends_, oh joy! But don't worry, you'll always be my buddy."

I held Harold a little longer before setting him back and turning off the light. I prayed—not literally—that I would not dream, but I didn't have my hopes up.

I resignedly shut my eyes and waited for the unconscious to come.

**I'm sorry if some of you are disappointed. Rest assured, our favorite vampires and favorite blonde beauty make their first appearance next chapter. Review!**


	4. Chapter 3: Good God!

**Well, here you are. I put in a heck of a lot of time and work to get this to you, so I expect responses.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.**

Chapter 3: Good God!

Ellie/Bella

I stumbled downstairs, dark circles under my eyes in the dull light of morning. Charlie took one look at me and passed me a huge cup of black coffee. After adding an obscene amount of cream and sugar, I chugged it.

"You remember the directions to school?" Charlie asked.

"Yeah. I'll be okay."

"Alright. I'll see ya later." He patted my shoulder and then left the room.

It was raining, of course, and cold, so I dressed appropriately. I pulled on a pair of dark jeans and an old black concert T-shirt. I added a black hoodie over it all and dark gray gloves. I seriously was not kidding when I said my clothes are nothing but blacks and grays. I never felt the need to wear makeup. The whole institution felt a little silly to me.

_She_ had worn makeup, and worn it well. It was never anything heavy, like some girls do it, but it was there. She tried to teach me, but I was stubborn.

_Why am I thinking about this?_

I shook myself and gathered my things with determination. I moved to my monster of a vehicle and climbed in. Jacob had not lied, the heater was blissfully working. It took a minute of maneuvering, but I managed to get it running and on the road.

Forks High School wasn't anything remarkable. To be perfectly honest, it was hardly any different from my school in Phoenix. I hoped the similarities stopped there.

People stared, but I was prepared for it. I was a new kid, waltzing in smack in the middle of November, and the Chief's mysterious daughter. Ha. People had never seen me. They'd only heard about me as the chief's kid that lived with his flighty ex-wife. They didn't even know my real name. They knew nothing about me, especially about IT.

I went to the main office to get my schedule checked and whatnot. The woman there, Ms. Cope, gave me a friendly smile and got me what I needed.

I wasn't even to my first period class before I was confronted by a boy.

"So you're the new girl," a baby-faced blonde boy said in greeting. He thrust his hand in front of me. "I'm Mike Newton."

I tentatively shook it. "Bella Swan."

He smiled, and there was something hungry in it. Warning bells were ringing in my head, but I kept my head. He started going on about helping me out with getting around the school, offering me a seat at lunch, etcetera. It didn't help that he was also in my first period class. We sat together, and he was much too close.

My hands started to sweat. I gulped nervously. He was oblivious, leaning in to talk to me, despite how much I leaned back. My knuckles went white as I clutched the table. Yet still he pressed.

_He wouldn't do something here. We're in public._

_What if no one cares? What if they help him?_

_They wouldn't do that. Not everyone wants to hurt us. Right?_

_How can you be sure?_

The voices argued all through class. I just barely stopped myself from leaping up and running out of the room when the bell rang. I told Mike I had to go to the bathroom and took off as fast as possible. I actually did go to the bathroom, pretty much collapsing against the wall of a stall and panting. Damn it all. What's happened to me?

My thoughts took a familiar dark turn. _She_ happened. IT happened.

I used to be happy. I used to be really happy. I used to be able to trust people, to hug them and be near them. I used to be able to look at them and not constantly think they're about to jump me.

Now I can't stand them. I want to lock myself in my room, only speaking to Charlie and only going out to bathe and eat. Maybe if I made enough money in the next ten years, I could buy a private island and become a hermit. Ah, the life.

When I felt my heart slow down again and could take a steady breath, I stood up and left the bathroom.

Oh hell, I didn't realize I was in there for so long. I'd missed the whole of second period and half of third! Judas Priest!

I tried to move as stealthily as possible, scrambling to think of a reasonable excuse, but I didn't make it five steps when a harsh male voice rang out, "Stop there, truant!" I turned and groaned when a tall man who looked like a history teacher (you know, the ones who were actually hired so they could coach some blood sport) stalking toward me. Well, there goes any calm I had managed to regain.

That was how I wound up in the principal's office pacing like a caged animal. I turned to the fat lub of a principal. "Please, if you could just let me call my dad, he'll sort this out."

"Oh, rest assured, your parents will be contacted, Miss…"

I glared at the bastard. "Swan."

He looked thoroughly taken aback. "You're Chief Swan's daughter?"

Didn't see that coming, did ya, you fat fuck? "Yes." Then, coldly, "Now if you don't mind, I'm going to call him myself." I pulled out my phone before he could further protest.

"Bells, what's wrong?"

"Dad, I had a little… anxiety incident at school and they've got me locked up in the principal's office for truancy." I said the anxiety part quietly.

He sighed. "Put the principal on." I smirked while the jerk couldn't see and then handed him the phone. I don't know what he said to the principal, but the man paled.

"Of course, Chief." He said, and shut the phone. He looked back at me. "You can go, Miss Swan." I held my smirk until I had my phone and was out of there.

Because of that little misunderstanding, there was only ten minutes left in my last period before lunch. There was no point in going, so I made a slow passage to the cafeteria.

When other people started pouring in, I had no choice but to take Mike up on his offer and sit with his friends. The group consisted of: two girls, a blonde and a brunette, who spelled trouble from a mile away, one other girl, a brunette with olive-toned skin and glasses, who actually looked nice, and three other boys.

"Hey, guys. Meet Bella."

The boys were, predictably, _very_ welcoming. One's name was apparently Tyler and the other two were Eric and Ben. The tan girl politely held out her hand.

"Angela Weber," she said in a light and quiet tone. She was pretty, with straight, dark hair, a bright smile, and kind brown eyes. Her glasses did not detract from her features nor did her lack of makeup; if anything, they made her seem much more approachable. I immediately felt something akin to comfort as I shook her hand. Her grip wasn't rough or firm, but warm and undemanding.

The other two were something different. Lauren, the blonde, and Jessica, the brunette, apparently. They… well, let's face it, they weren't good-looking. If I could see their actual faces, the ones underneath the makeup cake, I might reconsider. They didn't offer to shake my hand, which I was glad for because a) those fake nails were dangerous and b) I would probably have to go wash my hand afterwards.

And they were _mean_. Not outright, but I could feel the malice radiating off of them, particularly Lauren. Danger! Danger! I hastily took safe haven between Angela and Ben. Ben seemed nice, but ultimately unremarkable. I took note, however, of the way Angela looked at him. The girl in question turned to say something to me, but Mike interrupted before she even got a word out.

"So, Bella, how do you like Forks?"

Ugh. "It's okay. It's pretty different from Phoenix."

"I bet. Is it really super hot there all the time? Like, in the hundreds?" Angela asked. The difference between her and Mike was that she sounded honestly curious while Mike was just looking for a way to get my attention.

"No, not really. I mean, it's warm most of the year and it can get in the low hundreds in summer, but it's really pretty comfortable the majority of the time. And out in the desert it can drop below 20 degrees at night," I said back sincerely.

"Aren't people from places like Phoenix supposed to be really tan?" Why? Why did you have to say something? I looked at Lauren carefully, analyzing her forced nonchalance and snide tone. Great; it seemed I had an enemy already. One of the voices in my head whimpered, but I ignored it.

"Not always, but maybe that's why they kicked me out." The others laughed, and Lauren moved on, which was what I was going for.

I looked up for some reason and noticed a late group of people coming in.

A very… interesting group of people.

They were incredible. Unnatural beauty, unnatural grace. They floated into the cafeteria as if walking on air. There were four of them. They were all beautiful, too beautiful to be real. They were all pale, really pale, even more so than me. They were confident, with unshakable posture, swagger, and poise.

The first to enter was a male with gravity-defying bronze hair. He was lean and lank, reminding me of a cougar. Not far behind him was a total _bear_. He was huge, with muscles bulging on his arms. He had huge hands, short, black hair, and a decidedly devilish smirk plastered onto his face. His eyes, which were honest-to-god butterscotch gold, met mine suddenly, and his smirk got even wider, showing a pair of perfect white teeth. Then he looked away, going up the bronze one and taking his hand. The next to enter were a curly blonde male and a tiny black-haired girl. The male looked pained, but he moved with strength and a discipline that immediately reminded me of those commercials for the Marines and the Army. The girl was… well, she was something. Short compared to the blonde, tiny compared to the bear, she literally danced into the room, holding onto the blonde's arms. Her smile was radiant and hypnotizing. She had short, spiked hair, onyx earrings, and what may very well have been the most expensive designer clothes I'd ever seen. She, like the big male, mysteriously met my awestruck gaze. She smiled at me, really, really, really wide, and gave a brief little wave. I didn't even realize that I returned it until she giggled. The four of them moved to a table not far from mine, and I distinctly noticed how all of their eyes briefly turned to me. Then they moved back to the door. As if compelled, I followed their golden gazes.

Oh.

My.

Dear.

Sweet.

**God!**

My jaw hit the floor. My mind was hit by a train. A _blonde_ train. A _blonde_, **female** train.

"Sweet mother of leggy vixens," I breathed. That's what she was. The Queen of leggy, angelic women. She walked in already set with a glare. I could tell she absolutely loathed this place. Her golden blonde locks were long and shining, stretching down her back like a waterfall of forbidden treasure. Her face was perfection down to the last detail, even with the grimace set upon it. Her skin looked like milk, cold and smooth. Her red, red lips were two of Cupid's bows and in such stark contrast to her pallor. She walked with a sway to her hips. It drove me nuts just like everything else about her. Her body was like her face, perfection. From her supple curves to deceptively delicate hands to legs that went all the way up to Alaska, she was a goddess.

Like the pixie and the bear, she looked directly at me, as if she felt my gaze. She looked… surprised. She paused in her saunter towards her fellows and just looked at me. We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, her golden hues melting my chocolate browns.

Then she blinked, and just like that the moment was gone. She looked away and finished the walk to her table, but I was still caught and stunned. Her friends were all smiling, from her to me and then back at her. She said something, and the pixie laughed and responded. The goddess's eyes flashed back to me and then away again too fast. Now she looked pissed. She glared viciously around at her tablemates, and their grins only made it worse. Then she glared at me, and I felt like I should be on fire. My god, if looks could kill.

_Did I do something?_ One little voice whispered, terrified. I decided I would call it Fear. _Stop staring! You're making it worse._

But I couldn't bring myself to break away. Even wearing that most harsh expression, she was too beautiful to turn away from.

"I see you've noticed them," said Angela. I nearly jumped out of my seat. At her words, the goddess turned away again, the spell was broken, and I was able to turn back to my own table. I kinda forgot I was there.

"Wh-who are they?" I stuttered, a sign of how truly shaken I was.

She grinned knowingly at my expression. "The Cullens." She pointed to the big bear. "He's Emmett. Super huge, a little intimidating with those muscles, but he's actually sweet and really funny." She pointed to He-of-the-gravity-defying-hair. "That's Edward. Totally gorgeous, kinda quiet. Always seems bored for whatever reason. He and Emmett are together, like in a couple." Onto the blonde male. "That's Jasper, the one who looks like he's in pain. He's with Alice, the bubbly, little black-haired girl. Jasper keeps to himself. They all do, really, but Alice and Emmett are really nice."

And then, finally, she pointed to the goddess. "And that's Rosalie. You should watch out for her."

I didn't look at Angela when I asked why. "She's kinda… hostile. Most of the time she just goes around glaring at everyone who isn't her family. Oh, I forgot to mention that. They, all of them, are Dr. and Mrs. Cullen's adopted kids. Anyway, just be careful around Rosalie. She can scare off Lauren with a look, and I doubt she'll do any less in a fight."

Rosalie. Rosalie Cullen. That name floated around in my head, wrapping around my mind like a gold colored ribbon.

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. I took note how the Cullens left rather hastily.

I moved to my next class, English apparently, in a daze. The teacher, Mr. Varner, absently pointed me to a seat in between two others. For my own sanity, I hoped they stayed empty.

Class started like any other, until two latecomers arrived with hall passes.

Oh **come ON!**

Alice and Rosalie sauntered into the room, Alice eagerly taking the seat to my right and Rosalie very reluctantly taking the one on my left. Oh. Crap.

Alice turned to me. "We haven't been formally introduced. I'm Alice Cullen. You're Bella." I shook her hand and was shocked by how cold her skin was. I mean, it wasn't unpleasant, but people shouldn't be that cold. Alice didn't seem to notice my discomfort but instead looked over at Rosalie, who was looking anywhere but me.

"Rosalie, aren't you going to say hello?"

"Hello," she said sharply under her breath. I think I flinched because Alice patted me on the shoulder.

They started paying attention to the teacher, but I couldn't get back into class. I admit it; surrounded by two people like this, I was scared. Every instinct told me to either run or curl up in a ball and rock. It was stronger than it was with everyone else, but I didn't know why. I think it was because they were so beautiful. It was the kind of beauty that you'd give up your free will for if you were such a person. Humans shouldn't be so perfect. You wanted to trust those faces; with your secrets, your heart, your life.

Yes; that was why I feared them. I knew what could happen when you trusted another person completely.

And I never wanted to risk that again.

Rosalie

To say that I was getting irritated was a grave understatement. I was way past _irritated_.

My entire family has been hiding something from me. I knew because after living with each of them for at least 50 years, I was better at understanding them than at doing my hair, which was saying something big.

It started with one of Alice's visions. I was reading Vogue for some reason while Jasper and Emmett were competing at Call of Duty. Edward had been off talking to Carlisle, I think, and Esme was in her office working on a remodeling project she'd been hired for. Alice was laying on the railing of the stairs staring off into space when suddenly she jerked up, eyes clouded with the future. It lasted a good five minutes before she came back to us. When she did, she just turned and looked at me. Just stared at me. Then Edward was staring at me, having heard Alice's thoughts. They refused to tell us what she had seen, but the moment I left the sneaks told the rest of the family.

Ever since then, they've all been giving me these weird, knowing looks when they think I can't see. Anytime Alice got a long vision, she wouldn't tell me about it. And we're sisters! If Alice saw something about me, especially something that would give her five minute visions, she should tell me!

But no.

So yeah, I'm pissed.

This morning Alice was even more hyper than usual, and it affected the rest of the family too. They were all unexplainably giddy, even as we headed toward the architectural and intellectual vomit that was Forks High School. Ugh.

Apparently there was a new kid. Oh joy! The Chief's daughter, apparently. I hadn't bothered to find out anything else. Why should I? She would just be some other naïve, stupid and possibly bitchy human for us to have to look at every day.

As usual, I just sat and doodled in class. Why should I pay attention when I've learned the same material thirty, forty, a hundred times before? There was only one thing this whole place was good for: chemistry classes ('Cause you set things on fire. Duh!). But other than that, no.

1 period, 2 periods, 3, 4, 5. Ah, lunch (only for humans). I met my infuriating siblings outside. Alice, damn her, she was giddy to the point of hyper bouncing. I just glared at her silently.

They went in first. I sulked for a moment or two before following after. As per usual, my senses were rudely bombarded by the obnoxious noises and odors of the human world. I grimaced, a typical glare dominating my expression.

Then I felt something… odd. I paused to investigate. It was decidedly a force, one that was gently pulling my gaze to the side. It touched me like a caress, stroking the side of my face and my neck temptingly. I followed it, turning my head. I met the most beautiful pair of brown eyes I'd ever seen. Human eyes, alight with awe and something else I couldn't decipher. They were set in a striking and alarmingly pale face; heart-shaped, with a finely crafted chin, high cheekbones, a strong, straight nose, enticingly pink lips, and an inquisitive brow. The skin of this face was almost as white as mine, but with just enough rosiness to be a sign of health.

Something suddenly snapped into place as I gazed upon the face, the face of a human female. I felt… I felt… complete. The longer I looked upon her, the stronger the feeling of wholeness. I couldn't understand why I felt this way, but I did, and I couldn't bring myself to break the spell.

But then the human child next to her, Angela, said something. The girl jumped, almost out of her seat. Understandable after being startled, but, if I may say, a little extreme. The strange beauty looked terribly apprehensive for a moment before settling again. It was odd; I'd never seen a human react so… fearfully towards another friendly human. Was the girl frightened? Of Angela Weber? Nonsense; Angela would sooner crash her car than run over a worm. What was there to be scared of? The girl must not know her well; she did seem to be new.

The girl turned her attention away, and I was free and wondering what the hell just happened. I moved to my table confusedly, very much aware of the girl's chocolate eyes following me. My siblings were all smiling wildly.

"What?" I asked defensively.

Alice laughed. "You've met her. That's why we're smiling."

"Met who?"

She giggled again. "Your mate, Rosalie. The new girl, Bella Swan is your soulmate."

"What!" I hissed. They just kept smiling. "You're lying! She can't possibly be my mate."

"Why not?" Emmett asked, undeterred.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because she's human!" I turned and glared at the girl, who was still staring at me, viciously. How… how dare she? And how dare they to keep this from me? To allow that temptress here!

The girl flinched and shuddered minutely under my stabbing gaze. It was faint but I heard a weak little whimper. Good, she should be afraid. But at the same time, I felt horrible for provoking such a response. Deep down I wanted only to comfort, to touch, to hold…

Too fast for humans to see, I roughly shook my head. I shouldn't be having such thoughts. Oh, curse them! My family and that frail wisp of a girl!

I all but threw my siblings outside when lunch ended. "How dare you!" I hissed at them. "You knew the whole time? Why didn't you tell me? Of all people, don't you think the one who is directly affected by this has the right to know they're going to be affected?"

Alice only smiled apologetically. "Trust me, it's better that you don't know the details. I've seen it, Rosalie. It's going to happen whether you fight it or not, so you might as well go with it."

"Go with it?" I shouted. "Go with what? She's human, weak, breakable. I'm a vampire, designed to break her. We'd never work! I'd probably kill her before we even to second base. And it's not like I can go up and say 'hey, I'm a vampire who could possibly kill you, wanna date?'"

Emmett laughed at that, so I punched him. "Ow! Damn, Rose, that one hurt!"

"It serves you right," I snapped back.

"Rose, honey, calm down. It's going to work. I've been having visions of it for weeks. Just let it happen. I promise you, it'll work," Alice said, touching my shoulder.

I shrugged away from her hand. "We're late for class. Let's go." Unfortunately, Alice was next to me in my next class. We split up and went to our respective rooms, Alice and I walking in tense silence. At least, for me it was tense. She was as bouncy happy as ever.

I smelled her before I entered the classroom. Groaning, I followed Alice as she handed the teacher a carefully forged late slip. He directed us to our seats, which were of course on either side of that wretched little girl.

She looked just as frightened, if not more so as we sat down. She gulped loudly (at least to my ears). Alice wasted no time, boldly extending her hand. "We haven't been formally introduced. I'm Alice Cullen. You're Bella." They shook hands and I could tell how taken aback the human was by her cold skin. Gonna work, huh? My ass! I refused to look at either of them.

"Rosalie, aren't you going to say hello?" Alice said in a sickeningly false innocent voice.

Damn you, Alice! "Hello," I said harshly. The human flinched, and Alice, that traitor, patted her on the shoulder. I tried to focus on the class (first time for everything, I suppose), but my mind kept floating back to the infuriating girl next to me. She seemed to be getting more and more agitated with each passing moment, fidgeting and squirming in her seat. Her eyes flickered nervously between Alice and me.

When the bell rang, she was out of there like a horse at the track. Alice was still smiling peacefully as she gathered her things. I was glaring again.

**So our dear Rose isn't particularly happy about Ellie being her mate. But that changes, of course. How is Ellie going to react when things start coming together and secrets are revealed? Not well, I imagine, but I didn't tag this story as romance/angst for nothing. See you next time. Review!**

**Russia has signed off.**


	5. Chapter 4: Shaking

**This is just a little thing to hold you guys over. I'm having a bit of a block on both of my multi-chapter stories right now, and this is all I could get out. Just Ellie's somewhat unhinged mind and Alice thinking about stuff.**

Chapter 4: Shaking

Ellie/Bella

I don't think my knees stopped shaking until I practically fell against the front door of the house. I clenched my fists hard enough for my nails to leave marks in my palms. I slid to the floor, putting my head to my knees and working on my breathing for what felt like the thousandth time today.

It was even worse than I imagined, which was saying something. I could still feel it all; the fear, the vulnerability, the insecurity that had been raging in me all throughout this damnable day.

_So many people_, Fear whimpered softly. _That was too close._

_Maybe not._ That was Optimism, an emotion that rarely manifested itself anymore. _This isn't Phoenix. There's what, like 2,000 people in this whole place? None that know us, none that know what happened. And none that ever will, right? What's there to be worried about?_

_Oh gee, I don't know, maybe the fact that it's us against 2 bloody thousand! _Ah, there was Anger. I wondered when my other Emotions would make their appearance. _You're right on one thing. They don't know us. And we don't know them. We have no idea what they're capable of or what they want! So, given the choice between being careful and being foolish, I'm going with CAREFUL!_

_But think about it. If they mess with us, all we have to do is tell Charlie. He is the Authority here. People respect him. They fear him. They wouldn't do anything to make him mad, let alone as mad as he'd been if we were hurt._

Anger went off to sulk, I think, leaving Optimism to also depart, leaving only Fear behind.

_I don't want to be hurt again_, the voice whispered, and before I knew it, those very words crossed my lips.

"I don't want to be hurt again."

Alice

"_I don't want to be hurt again." Bella whispers, holding herself in a little ball against her front door._

This was all I got from the micro-vision before I returned to the inside of Edward's Volvo. No one but Edward and my Jazzy noticed, for which I was grateful. Edward looked troubled, but quickly shook it off, and Jasper squeezed my hand.

I occupied myself with delving into this little tidbit of a vision. It bothered me, but it wasn't the only one about Bella that did. I was having Bella/Rose visions at least three times a day now. Most of them were good, or at least non-hostile, but some, like these, were troubling. _How were you hurt, Bella? And does it explain the things I've seen: your… reluctance, your fear?_

I looked back at my other visions, skipping over the ones that would obviously happen after the happily ever after to focus on the more imminent ones. Yes, there was a trend there. A worrisome one, but not so that I would tell anyone beyond Edward. Not even him if it was possible, but oh the joys of having a mind-reading brother.

What was she so afraid of? I made a note to check her records when I got home to find out. I hoped I wouldn't find anything excessively horrific.


	6. Chapter 5: FML  Twilight Edition

**Sorry for the delay, but I hope this chapter makes up for it.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, but if you come after me I will get a vampire to kill you, which will really suck for you.**

Chapter 5: FML – Twilight Edition

Ellie/Bella

Charlie didn't bother asking what was wrong when he came home. He knew well enough when he found me still shivering, curled up on the couch. He handed me a blanket and left for his office. He was used to this; he knew how to react and what not to do.

I appreciated it. Later, maybe we could talk. Maybe; I could not guarantee anything. The only bad thing was that I was once again alone with my thoughts, which I was pretty sure were out to kill me. Damn it, emotions aren't supposed to talk to you! Fear cringed at my tone, Anger and Insulted were being all buddy-buddy, Optimism was nowhere to be found.

And memories weren't supposed to cage their owners like a thousand personalized Guantanamo Bays!

_She had thought about using a cage, she'd told me. It was early on day two, I think, and she was going on and on about all the planning she'd put into this… this… There was only one word that could describe what this was._

_**Betrayal.**_

_She told me the cage would've been too conspicuous, and too much of a hassle. As if her train of diabolical ranting had reminded her, she checked the tightness of the leather restraints that held me down. Satisfied, she resumed ranting, telling me how she hadn't imagined it happening like this, hadn't wanted it to hurt me, __**blaming me**__ for making her have to hurt me, have to—_

"_If you had just said no. If you had just ignored her, it would have been different. But you had to go and say yes, like some slut!" She barked, and I cringed. Almost instantly, her hand reached out in some twisted attempt to soothe, stroking my cheek. I jerked away from her hand. How dare she blame me for this? How the hell was it my fault? I just said yes when I was asked on a date, __**by my crush**__ that she very well __**knew about**__! I cried inside, the profound and simple hurt I felt overwhelming me._ I'm not a slut. I've never even kissed anyone. Why would she say that? Why is she doing this?

_But she had told me why. Told me her reasons, but I still couldn't process it, couldn't understand it. So I stayed silent, which wasn't difficult given the fact that I was gagged._

I gasped and unintentionally rolled off the couch. I hit the floor with a thud and a grunt and rolled onto my back. I stayed there for lord knows how long, staring at the ceiling and trying to get myself under control.

One thing was certain: I wasn't sleeping tonight.

1-2-3-2-1 **(I had to change the symbol for time lapse to boring numbers because stupid feels they can just up and delete my symbols and not tell me they've been deleted.)**

I dragged my feet as I walked into school the next morning, feeling every bit like the zombie I must look like. Apparently I didn't look like much of one though because there was Mike, completely oblivious. First period was a repeat of yesterday, though I do think I handled it better this time around. At the very least, I didn't have an hour long panic attack in the bathroom.

Second period was apparently Spanish, which means blow-off class for me as I'm already fluent in Spanish, German and Turkish (I know, it's really random for me to speak Turkish, but hey, no one ever knows when I'm cussing them out, so it's worth it!) The teacher was vibrant and welcoming, and, if I was being perfectly honest, a little like a human-sized parakeet. I liked her.

Third period was Calculus… damn it! I sulked for the majority of that class, scowling. But then it was over (oh thank god), and it was time for lunch. Wait…

Aw crap, I had to go to lunch. With the _Cullens_. DAMN IT!

Reluctantly, very reluctantly, I made my way to the cafeteria. Optimism was attempting to reassure me that it was very unlikely that anything would happen between us (by us I meant me and that blonde seraph Rosalie, who, if her murderous glares from yesterday were anything to go off of, should have been named Azriel), but it had proven time and again that it only got me so far.

I tried as inconspicuously as possible to just get my lunch and take my seat. I think I did an okay job. Angela and Ben sat on either side of me again. I think Mike was a bit peeved by that, but he almost hid it well. To my displeasure, Lauren and Jessica also sat down across from me. I distinctly felt a heeled foot crash down on my toes. I rolled with the punch, figuratively speaking, and pulled my feet back out of reach. Lauren looked particularly suspicious.

Angela was ever the epitome of outgoing and welcoming. She happily and eagerly engaged Ben and me in light conversation. Once again, I felt… comfortable around them. It scared me to feel that way but I found I didn't want to close myself off to them. Yet.

It entered me like a spear of awareness, drawing my gaze to the door. There they were. The Cullens. And there she was. Rosalie. Their eyes met mine again, but this time when they passed I managed to break out of my trance.

Temporarily.

I lasted about five minutes before I furtively peeked over my shoulder. They were talking amongst themselves, Rosalie looking as angry and glare-y as yesterday and the others looking inexplicably smug about… something.

…

Was it just me, or were they sitting _closer_ to our table? I could've sworn they were five tables in the opposite direction yesterday. I counted; there were only three randomly placed and spaced tables between us now. Some people around the cafeteria also seemed to notice this change. Several nameless teens sent brief glares towards the strange family—glares I noticed that family dutifully ignoring—making me think the Cullens had displaced some students who were now pouting at a different table.

Okay…

Then I shook myself. _Check your ego, girl_, I lightly chastised myself. _They probably just wanted a new table. It has nothing to do with you._

I nodded to myself, turned back to my table again in time to hear Ben finish a rant about comic books and pushed, or attempted to push, the Cullens from my mind.

_Why can I feel eyes on me?_

After lunch, I felt a sense of severe dread as I approached the door to the English room. _Don't be a coward_, I told myself repeatedly. _Go in and just do the fucking thing._

I went in and took my seat. The rest of the class filed in, including Rosalie (oh boy). However, I was very much aware of the fact that Alice wasn't here. Rosalie shot me a fierce warning look that made me shiver before sitting down beside me. Alice's seat remained empty.

Crap. Well, I tried to reassure myself that should the need to escape the pale choking hands of Azriel arise, there was an easy opening to use for escape.

"Okay, class, today we will be continuing our study into the poems of Walt Whitman and Emily Dickinson with me introducing your next project to you," the teacher (I'm not good with teacher names) said.

Oh goodie; something I can pay attention to distract myself from the silently seething goddess one seat to my left. I enthusiastically listened as the teacher explained.

"For this project, you will be creating a PowerPoint presentation in which you will be choosing a song—any school appropriate song—and analyzing its meaning and poetic devices. You will prepare a thirty second clip of your chosen song to play for the class, preferably a verse or chorus line, and you will put the lyrics in your presentation. Now, here's the catch. You must be able to compare your song to one of either Walt Whitman or Emily Dickinson's poems _and_ explain what the poetic devices contribute to the song. You choose the poem and match the song. Your grading sheets from the beginning of class will explain the finer details. Eh, you'll be working in pairs with the person next to you and will turn in and present your completed project next Tuesday. Any questions?"

Fuck.

My.

Life.

I spared a fearful glance at Rosalie, who looked ready to rip the teacher's head off with her bare hands. Then her gaze met mine, and it… changed. I can't really describe it, but it changed. It was still angry, very angry, but there was something… something…

A hand briskly shoved my shoulder. "Hey, wake up before you start drooling."

I jumped, halfway out of my seat, heart pounding. Then I looked down to see Rosalie's hand suspended in midair between us. So she was the one who touched me. I… I didn't notice. I was too caught up in her… I looked everywhere on her face but her eyes. She looked… concerned. Worried, but just like that, it was gone or hidden behind a huffy mask once more. I think I may have imagined it.

"How about this? I'll come to your place tomorrow and we'll pick a song and a poem and go from there," she said, very formal and succinct.

I found myself robbed of words, so I nodded and ducked my head. When in doubt, act like a scared little bunny and hope the predator passes you by. "D-do you know where I live?" I mumbled.

"Yes," she said and nothing more.

"Okay," I said, damning the slight quiver in my voice.

"Alright then," she said.

We didn't speak for the rest of class.

Rosalie

What was with this girl? Seriously, she looked like she wanted to jump out the window and run off screaming. Again.

_Is it me?_ I wondered worriedly. _It's probably me. I haven't exactly been approachable or remotely welcoming to her. Maybe I should try—_

_Shut up! You don't have to do anything for this silly girl. She's just one insignificant human, a naïve child who you __**do not**__ feel anything for._

_Liar! She's your mate and you damn well feel it!_

_She is __**NOT**__ my mate!_

_**Yes she is!**_

I snarled quietly to myself. Damn inner voices always cluttering up my head with their bickering. I knocked them both out as I left the classroom.

Come what may, I will be standing in Bella Swan's house tomorrow performing mundane academic tasks for the sole purpose of keeping up appearances in this stupid town.

Fuck my life.

**So, Rosalie can't make any claim to sanity either. The next chapter is up for debate. I'm leaving it for you guys to choose. Your choices are: **

**Ellie and Rosalie do work for their project and all the angsty, awkward, pre-relationship stuff that comes with it**

**Ellie goes to La Push in the evening with Charlie and we meet the characters and the dynamic there with the project chapter after.**

**Put your votes in your reviews and I'll go from there.**

**I would hope that this chapter made it pretty obvious **_**what**_** happened to Ellie, if not **_**who**_** did it. If not, please let me know. Note: the non-italics in the italicized section are thoughts in case anyone was thrown off. **

**Second note: Azriel is the legit Angel of Death in actual angelology and seraphs (seraphim if you want to be technical) are said to be the highest among the ranks of angels, such as Michael, Gabriel, Azriel, and Lucifer. So, that's some high (if a little bittersweet) praise for Rosalie, don't ya think?**

**Third note: this is kinda really late, but the song from chapter 1 is Stand in the Rain by Superchick.**


	7. Chapter 6: Eyes are Weapons

**So sorry. I can't say anything other than that. Really sorry. But I'm not dead and I haven't fallen off the face of the earth. Here's your Ellie/Rosalie chapter. Enjoy and review. And anyone who knows what chair mode activated is referencing gets candy.**

**Disclaimer: Ellie's back-story minus Renee and Phil is mine.**

Chapter 6: Eyes are weapons

Ellie/Bella

I paced restlessly across the length of my living room. _Holy crap, she's gonna be here soon!_ I squeaked in my head. I reached for the coffee table and grabbed a scrappy piece of note paper. I skimmed my list again. I had compiled a list of songs and matched them to poems earlier today. I had seven. Shake it Out by Florence + the Machine, Winter Song by Sara Bareilles, Two is Better than One by Boys like Girls, We Are One… from, uh, Lion King 2, Set Fire to the Rain by ADELE, Move Along by All-American Rejects, and Part of Me by Katy Perry. I hoped they were good. I couldn't shake the feeling that I would be chow if I did the slightest thing to annoy her.

_Haven't you pissed her off in a big way already?_ I shuddered. Yes. And just like that, I was stressing again.

Charlie walked in, took one look at me, and sat down on the couch. He patted the seat next to him. I slouched over and took the seat, looking at my fingers.

He made the first move. "Are you gonna be okay here, Bells? I can call off today."

I shook my head. "No, Dad, they need you at the station. I'll be fine, really." It didn't sound convincing, even to me.

He looked at me for a long moment, probably deciding whether to call my bluff or not. "Alright," he said hesitantly. "I'll have my phone with me. You have any problems, and I mean _any_. Problems. You call me. Understand?"

"Yeah, Dad. I got it," I mumbled, getting the words out as quickly as possible.

He sighed. "Alright then." He got up, and then paused. Cautiously, he reached out and put his hand on my shoulder. I ignored my first instinct to move away, and gave him a shy grin.

He got his things and left. I tried to stay on the couch, but was too restless. I got up and started pacing again. When the door bell rang, I just about jumped out of my skin, even letting out a little yelp. Shaking from head to toe, I stumbled into the hall. It took me several long seconds to steady my hands enough to unlock the door.

She was there, of course, radiant even under the gloomy gray sky. I froze like a mouse looking at a beautiful and very dangerous snake.

"You gonna let me in or not?" She said. I snapped out of my trance, gulped noisily, and stepped to the side. She sauntered into my house, sliding out of her boots. She turned back to me, eyeing my shivering form with an unreadable expression. "Do you have your songs picked out?"

"Y-yes," I stammered, looking down. I gestured vaguely to the family room. "In here." We moved to the family room and, without giving her my back, picked my list up off the table.

She took it and then _stared_. I mean, she **reamed** that thing, absolutely impaled it with the two dark amber spears that were her eyes. Her eyelid twitched, and I knew I was in some major trouble. Chair mode activated, boop! I slipped out of sight and took to the couch, hoping to disappear.

I damn near pissed myself when she finally moved. She turned in one of those really slow motions, like the ones you see in movies when some idiot's about to get his ass handed to him after ticking someone off in a big way. She looked like she really wanted to hit something, but was composing herself. "Your list is good. But I've never heard Winter Song."

I made myself speak. "I… I have it on my iPod. I can p-put it on." She didn't respond immediately. Instead, she seemed to change. The poorly hidden harshness and irritation in her expression faded. Her shoulders relaxed a little. She stopped clenching and unclenching her hands. Just like that, she seemed as normal and not Azriel-ish as any average person.

The voices in my head reminded me not so subtly that she was far from normal.

"That would be good," she said. Her voice was all softness now, lower than her original timbre. Like someone was trying to flip a switch, I wanted to relax, to just sit and listen to that soft murmuring. Kinda like dark colored silk, my whacked out head imagined. But I couldn't, so instead I gathered what wits I had, got up, and shuffled over to the stereo, plugging my iPod in and scrolling through the songs. The first notes of Winter Song began to play as I took my seat again. She sat in the chair across from me and was silent.

_This is my winter song to you_

_The storm is coming soon_

_It road in from the sea_

_My voice a beacon in the night_

_My words will be your light_

_To carry you to me_

_Is love alive?_

_Is love alive?_

_Is love…?_

Her expression shifted dramatically. First there was surprise, as if she had expected something different. Then something of a disheartened look came over her. And then it vanished back into her mask.

_They say that things just cannot grow_

_Beneath the winter snow_

_Or so I have been told._

Was that… contemplation?

_They say we're buried far_

_Just like a distant star_

_I simply cannot hold._

She looked at me thoughtfully. Her eyebrow rose when I blushed.

_Is love alive?_

_Is love alive?_

_Is love alive?_

My favorite verse was next. I couldn't stop a grin from flickering across my face.

_This is my winter song._

_December never felt so wrong_

'_Cause you're not where you belong_

_Inside my arms._

I know it's cliché, but our eyes suddenly met, as if drawn magnetically. Whoosh! I was gone. Goodbye awareness, hello golden haze of oblivion! God—goddess, really—how the fuck could anyone be so fan-fucking-tastically beautiful? Jesus Christ!

I think the song was finishing up when she finally looked away. I felt conscious thought return to me like a slap in the face. Which sucked, because naturally I blushed like a beet and shook like an epileptic. Crap, how did she have this effect on me? She was unnaturally beautiful, yes, but this was different, separate from that. I couldn't help but feel some… _draw_ to her, I suppose. And that was illogical. What possible connection could we share?

I didn't have any time to ponder this because she started to speak. "That's a nice song. You connected it to 'If you were coming in the fall'?"

I nodded. "Yes," I whispered. She sat there in silence for a long moment. Then she stood.

"Then we're done. Don't worry about the power point. I'll take care of it. We'll talk more in school."

"Oh, okay," I stammered, getting up. We walked to the door. My hands were just steady enough to get it open without trouble. She looked back at me as she walked out. Her expression was speculative.

"Are you sick?"

"What?" I was caught off guard by the question.

"Are you ill? You look tired. And peaked."

"Oh, no. No, I'm not… sick. I just… don't get much sleep."

"Oh." What an abrupt syllable. It was just as abrupt as her turn as she started walking back to her—for the love of god—sleek, red Mercedes Bendz. Other than that Volvo, it was the nicest car I had seen in Forks thus far. Looking at Rosalie, I realized I wouldn't have expected anything less.

After she had driven away and was entirely out of sight, I closed the door and released the breath I'd been holding since she'd first arrived. I went back into the living room and noticed an unfamiliar paper on the table. I picked it up and observed the sharp, curving script.

_She forgot her list of songs!_ I looked up at the closed door. I would have to bring it to her tomorrow. Sigh.

Curious, as I often was, I looked over the songs she had chosen.

Oh.

So that was why she had tried to laser two holes in my list with her eyes.

With exception of Winter Song, our song choices were identical.

**Ooo.**

**Kay, peeps. The poem they mentioned, If You Were Coming in the Fall, is by Emily Dickinson. Her poetry is great. See you, hopefully, soon.**


	8. Important Farewell Notice

**Sigh.**

**Hi guys. I know it's been forever since I posted last. I'm sorry but I don't think I'm going to be able to continue this, at least not for a while. And since it's been a long while already, I'm putting No Safety up for adoption. Anyone interested should PM me with their version of the next chapter and a basic summary of their plans for the plot and I will pick the best.**

**Thanks for reading, favorite-ing, and reviewing. I'm glad I wrote something you guys liked. If any of you read my other stories, then rest assured I am NOT giving up on them.**

**Thanks again. Remember to PM if you're interested.**


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